


I'd Think of You

by lunaartemis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Iwa chan the cat, M/M, Spirits and curses, hqbb2018, photographer oikawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 04:30:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17053172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaartemis/pseuds/lunaartemis
Summary: Oikawa Tooru returns home after ten years and sees a familiar cat fishing in the river.





	I'd Think of You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Haikyuu Big Bang for 2018. Please check out twitter @hqbb2018 for more wonderful works of art and fiction. And @0levaot (Ori!) to see art inspired by this fic.

Certainly, there had once been a time when Tooru truly enjoyed the sensation of being in the spotlight. Now, he did his best to remember what that felt like to trick his body into a sense of ease. But much too soon there was a tap on his shoulder and a hurried, hushed whisper in his ear to be prepared to go on in 5, 4, 3, 2…

The host of this particular morning show had introduced herself earlier and even asked for an autograph so he hoped she would be gracious. She stood up to introduce him and he walked out into the bright lights for the interview Mattsun had (forced) insisted he undertake. He took a seat and for the most part the questions were ones he had practiced answers to. But the feeling he’d had that she’d betray him came to fruition when she reached over the coffee table in front of them and out of a stack of magazines picked out the one with Ushijima Wakatoshi on the cover.

“Let’s talk about this for a moment, Oikawa san,” she said sweetly. He smiled (hopefully not too forced) and folded his hands in his lap to keep from doing something drastic, like say...pulling out his own hair in frustration.

“You and Ushijima san played on the same volleyball team in your university days, is that correct?” she asked.

“That’s right.”

“And you both made it to the olympic team in 2020 together.”

“On our own merit,” he added.

“But together?” 

“He was there. I was there.” He gave her his most charming smile.

“Many are saying this photograph is your masterpiece.” She held out the cover for the camera. Honestly, he thought that was pushing it. But he was proud of his work even if Ushijima was the focal point.

“I’m happy with the way it turned out. From what I understand there was an influx of kids and parents joining volleyball youth groups after it was published.”

“How wonderful.” She seemed disappointed. Tooru succeeded in abating a grin.

“Were you two great friends in school?” she tried. He did commend her on her tenacity.

“We met in middle school. And we were rivals from the moment we met. That rivalry really pushed me to be a better athlete.”

“But you were friends in college?”

“Teammates. Colleagues. We have very different personalities,” he said. If that didn’t change the topic he didn’t know what would.

“I read somewhere that he was constantly by your bedside after the accident.”

He seriously hated interviews. And Mattsun for scheduling them. He tried his best to keep his face from registering how annoyed he was. But his accident was a topic he had ready answers to.

“He was there for me, I’ll admit. And I am grateful for his concern and all his help.” Ushijima really never could take the hint that he didn’t want him around more than he had to be. “But there were so many people who helped me and raised me up when I truly needed it. I can’t give him all the credit.” A wink. A smile. There was no audience in this studio but he knew how to engage with the camera.

“It was a difficult recovery, wasn’t it?” She put the magazine down, to his relief.

“It certainly taught me to look both ways when crossing the street,” he replied laughingly. “I wore a brace for two years.” He rapped his knuckles against his head. “And I have steel plates here and there.”

She picked up the magazine again. Whyyyyy!

“And it was after, when you knew you would never play professionally again that you picked up photography.” A statement. He nodded. “And you’ve been just as successful in this endeavor as you were in your volleyball career.” She examined the photograph. Ushijima and that annoyingly intent gaze, the ball suspended in mid air, the tremble of the atmosphere as he clicked the shutter in the moment before the player decided how to move next. The article talked about the certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ of his photography. How he had a talent for capturing moments where the subject’s eyes were full of life. Ushijima were full of intent and power and with the certainty that whatever he did next he would be sure to carry his will through. He was the master of the ball and of the game. And Tooru had the talent to capture it.

Tooru knew better. It was hard work and passion. Passion for the game and a knowledge of what would happen next. He’d watched Ushijima play for so many years that he knew what to look for and knew when to take a picture that would convey who he was as a player. And he was such a remarkable player, even Tooru had no trouble admitting that now (privately, to himself) that it was no wonder that he had inspired a new generation of players to pick up the volleyball.

“I’ll say this...I watch. I watched as an athlete and now I watch as a person who wants to inspire more people to play and have fun with the game. It saved me: playing volleyball. And though I can’t set in a professional court anymore it saves me all the same to stand there and capture the moments that make people want to get up and play.”

“Beautifully said, Oikawa san. Now, one last question...this one comes from our online poll.”

He inclined his head to gesture he’d answer.

“If not Ushijima san, then who would you say was your best friend growing up?”

He smiled. “Believe it or not, growing up my best friend was a cat.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


After that interview Tooru said goodbye to the city (and Mattsun) and returned to Sendai just in time to walk home as the sun was rising. Never in all his wild dreams had he thought that he would ever return to live there. His home city lacked the hyped up energy he’d sought for in Tokyo as a college student. And as an adult he’d been on the move so constantly that even visits had been out of the question. But, as life would have it, on a day much like this his dreams had shattered in one agonizing swoop. Derailing the way he had in the aftermath...well, he didn’t like to dwell on it. What mattered was that slow but steady he’d pieced himself back to someone that felt human. It was then that he felt like it was time to return home.

The day was so nice and he was feeling so nostalgic that he decided to forego a taxi and instead walked. Here and there he took a picture and noticed that nothing had changed in the landscape of things. And it was also then, when the lens focused, that he came upon another familiar sight.

Up ahead, under the bridge that he would cross when going to Kitagawa Daichi, there was a cat sitting by the bank of the river. It was sitting perfectly still and the grumpy, furrowed expression on its face was just the same as it had been on Tooru’s childhood cat. Not that it had truly been his cat, per say. It was just that there had been a cat in his childhood that he would feed in order o befriend. And that in turn had saved him on more than one occasion.

“I wonder if Iwa-chan spawned a new generation of kitties,” he murmured as he watched the cat and took several pictures. He noticed that the cat had something in its mouth and zoomed in. Tooru squinted and made out that it was actually a string. A piece of long, long string that went into the water. He felt his mouth break open into a smile that was so wide and surging with so much nostalgia that it hurt.

Just like his Iwa-chan. His childhood cat also used to fish in the river. He had been so human-like in many ways that Tooru had thought of him as a playmate. As a friend. Truthfully, as he’d said in his interview, his best friend.

Tooru put his bag down on the grass and sat down to watch and take photos. He felt such joy in that moment, with the air being the perfect amount of crisp and the sight of this cat making him recall fond memories. Really, this cat was the spitting image of Iwa-chan. He decided that it definitely had to be Iwa-chan’s baby. Or great-great grandbaby... Idly, he also wondered if it would let him take it home to his new house. Iwa-chan had occasionally stayed with him from time to time. But in the end he never stayed…

The Iwa-chan look alike suddenly sprang onto all four paws, adopting a strong stance as it slowly moved back away from the water. A struggling fish came to light just under the surface. It splashed in vain and when the cat yanked it onto the bank and dashed forward for the kill Tooru looked away. Iwa-chan had also preferred fresh fish to kitty food, much to his chagrin.

When he was done Tooru raised the camera up and snapped another photo of the cat cleaning his paw. In that moment, with the lens trained on him, their eyes locked. Tooru’s heart leaped in both excitement and longing. He’d know those eyes anywhere. Steady and solemn, they were the eyes of his best friend. He lowered the camera and felt his own eyes fill. The cat blinked and as Tooru’s vision distorted with tears he ran off under the bridge.

It was a long time before he stood up to make his way home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There were boxes everywhere. Of clothes and books and toiletries there was a neat stack. The rest of the tower was comprised of his photographs.

He’d majored in business while in college. But he had filled all his electives with photography and art classes just to break the monotony and to have quiet moments in his otherwise hectic life. After the accident, when all there could be was quiet, he’d found solace in his hobby. Eventually, a saving grace.

Tooru made his way around the big tower of boxes in the front room and maneuvered past the maze of them towards the box in the kitchen. He knew he had a photo of Iwa-chan somewhere in that one. And there was a leftover box of takeout sitting in the fridge calling his name..

He went through the pictures as he ate, careful not to get any chicken crumbs on the images. This was a box from his childhood so all the photos were delicate and Tooru considered breaking out the laminator to protect them.

He smiled fondly as he flipped through them all. His mom’s dazzling smile. His sister’s raised eyebrow. His nephew’s evil little grin. Of course, time had changed all their faces. His mom had lines that shocked him every time he saw her and his sister’s smile was more carefree. Takeru was a dad now.

His own face stared back too. Childish, chubby cheeks and a big grin when he was happy. Big, fat tears when he was upset. And there...a sleek black cat folded in his lap. Iwa-chan had liked to nap on his lap in the afternoons. He’d like to be scratched softly behind his ears. He’d follow Tooru to school and would show up on his way back home. He’d hiss at dogs and bat away other cats that got too close. He was Tooru’s protector.

At home he’d sit by Tooru while he did his homework and perched on the wall while he practiced volleyball serves in the backyard. He was awarded his own chair for being Tooru’s little knight, as his mother liked to call him, and ate dinner at the table with them. He had loved his cat with all his heart. But then, at the beginning of high school, he’d gone to bed with his cat curled up beside him and woke up to find him gone. As he was sometimes. But then never saw him again.

Tooru thumbed lovingly across the image of his Iwa-chan.

At least, he thought, I said ‘I love you’ that night.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Before long he’d made a new routine for himself. He’d wake up at 5:30 in the morning and be up and on his morning run by 6 o’clock. By seven he’d stop at his mom’s for coffee or tea before she went to work at her part time job at the city library. They’d walk there together before parting ways. It was on one such walk six months after he’d moved to Sendai that she mentioned Iwa-chan and he remarked that he’d seen a similar cat on the day of his homecoming.

She smiled sadly. “I shouldn’t have let him out that day,” she said. “He was pawing so frantically at the back door that I felt like something was wrong. But I let him go anyway.” She sighed and reached over and touched Tooru’s hand. “I know I never told you this...but you were so upset. I didn’t have the heart to make it worse.”

Tooru felt the familiar sadness surge but squeezed her hand. “It was a long time ago, mom.”

“Even so. You never forget someone you loved.” She smiled and the wrinkles around her eyes and lips deepened. “And speaking of love...I finally saw the interview you were hiding from me last night.”

“Mom,” he groaned. “Not you too. Please, please, please. I beg of you.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh fine then. I just worried that perhaps you were lonely.”

“I’m not lonely, mom. I have plenty of people around me.”

“Perhaps you should get a pet,” she suggested.

“You know no animal could compare to…” He didn’t know why she was even talking about this. She knew how much Iwa-chan had meant to him. And how hurt he’d been when his cat had disappeared.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She smiled fondly. “He was such a little person, that Iwa-chan.”

Tooru laughed. “Remember when we caught him changing the channel on the TV? It seriously looked like he was changing the channel on the remote.”

“Oh yes! And when your sister swore she saw him flush the toilet like he’d just used it.”

“And! When he would meow back when you talked to him. He always sounded like he was talking right back.”

Mom smiled fondly and squeezed his hand one last time before letting go. “He was a good boy. But I never could look at another cat without thinking of him.”

He paused. “Me too. ...But that cat. It really did look exactly like him.” He decided to keep the fact that it had been fishing as well to himself.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


After dropping off his mom at work he’d usually head home and fill orders. Although he was on sabbatical he didn’t like to be too idle. So when Mattsun, being his agent, suggested he sell prints of his work online via mail order he’d been skeptical. But to his surprise business boomed and now he thought maybe he could hire a helper when he resumed his travels to keep it up.

But it was lonely work and so around one o'clock he grabbed his keys and wallet and made his way out to grab some lunch and tea at a local coffee shop. He’d stop by there almost every day because his friend, Makki, was the owner. Besides, Makki knew how to make a cup of coffee Tooru actually liked. And his milk bread was to die for. Thought Makki occasionally tried to convert him into being a lover of cream puffs like himself.

Makki’s shop was classy and cozy and Tooru enjoyed the armchairs in the back best of all. It gave him the whole view and he found the soft white carpet and blue-toned walls had a relaxing effect on his mood.

He was going over e-mails and the various work proposals Mattsun had sent over for him to consider when Makki came over and asked if he’d like to see the rest of the shop once business hours ended.

Tooru hadn’t even known there was more to it.

Makki smiled in a conspiratory way and led him through a doorway Tooru had never noticed and up the staircase leading to the second story he’d never contemplated. “I have a study upstairs,” he explained. “And there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Sounds serious,” he said. “And therefore, unlike you.”

“Every so often I enjoy being serious,” Makki quipped. “Now, don’t freak. Mattsun freaked when he first saw it. But if he can get over it you can definitely deal.”

And with that, his friend of thirteen years led him into a room that looked like something out of Howl’s Moving Castle. Tooru walked around slowly, taking it all in, and felt his hands itch for his camera. His first thought was that he wanted to photograph Makki in this, what seemed to be his element. He’d thought that Makki had looked at home making coffee and extolling the virtues of cream puffs above all other pastries… But  _ this  _ was where he looked like he belonged. He was glowing with ease in the midst of shelves bursting with colorful tinctures in blown glass bottles and feathers from birds he couldn't even imagine and scrolls and scrolls tumbling from more shelves…

“Are you, like…” He didn’t even know what word fit this scene. All he could think about was what he would call his photograph of Makki among all his colorful items: Magic.

“We just call ourselves Mediums in my family. Have a seat.” He gestured to a chair and Tooru sat down, feeling suddenly exhausted.

“In your family? Your sisters also…”

“Yep. We all see spirits. They practice more than I do since I’ve chosen to stay local. But here and there I help spirits move on or purify a troublesome one if I encounter one. Or am asked to.” Makki sat down across from him, watching him carefully. “Do you believe me?”

“So Mattsun knows?”

“Well, we are long distance boyfriends…” Makki rolled his eyes. “Of course he knows. I told him when we were in high school. And before you get all offended I would have told you too but my mom said I had to choose only one.”

Tooru gave himself the pleasure of scowling anyway. “Why tell me now?”

“Well, when you left my shop the other day I saw a cat following you.”

Tooru felt his heart skip a beat. “You did? Was it a black cat?”

“Yup.”

“Did he really follow me?” He’d pieced together that Makki probably had something against his cat but all the same it made him feel alight with warmth that Iwa-chan’s baby had followed him. “I had a cat just like him as a kid. Maybe his babies feel a connection to me or something crazy like that.”

Makki rolled his eyes. “It’s the same cat, Oikawa.” He held up a hand before Tooru could open his mouth. “It’s the same cat you had as a kid. And before you say anything I need to apologize to you. And help rectify the mistake I made thirteen years ago when we met.”

Thirteen years ago he’d met Makki at the start of high school. Thirteen years ago Iwa-chan had disappeared. He had never thought those two things had anything to do with the other. Why would he? Tooru closed his mouth and listened, hoping beyond what was rational that Iwa-chan was still around. Even though it was impossible. It was impossible, wasn’t it?

“I was still a novice Medium,” Makki began. “So I couldn’t tell exactly what was going on with your cat. But I knew there was something dark coming from it and I could see that it was leaving a mark on your aura. I didn’t want it to consume you...so I followed it, cornered it, and told it that if it didn’t leave you that you would die.” He crossed his arms. “I had watched it for days and could see it was fond of you so I thought that threat would be enough. And it was. Shortly, it’s mark on you faded and I never saw a trace of it on you again.”

Tooru felt like the air in the room was getting thin. He shook his head. “Iwa-chan was a normal cat.”

“He wasn’t.”

“He wasn’t a spirit!” Tooru retorted. “I could touch him. My mom could touch him too.”

“Well, you’re right about that. He wasn’t a spirit. Like I said, I didn’t know enough about spirits to be able to tell at the time… But when I saw that cat again the other day I could recognize that it wasn’t a spirit enveloped in darkness, but rather a being that’s been cursed.”

“Cursed?” he said, the word awkward on his tongue. Iwa-chan had been a sweet, (albeit grumpy) protective cat. There had been nothing cursed about him.

“Yep. He’s cursed, simply put. Depending on the power of the castor, when a curse is put on a sentient being it can result in different ways. I’d have to bring it here or watch it longer to be able to tell you the nature of it and to be able to help it…because one thing is for certain: curses are intended to hurt.”

“You can help Iwa-chan?” The idea that his little cat was in pain, had been in pain all along, even when they’d spent all their time together, hurt too much for him to vocalize. “What do I do? How do I help?”

Makki got up and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He squeezed. “I’ve got a plan. We’re gonna make this right, you’ll see.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It had been so many years now since he’d last stood in the river. The water was colder than what he’d prepared himself for and so he couldn’t help the yelp and the ensuing, uncontrollable chattering of his teeth as he walked into the water.

The plan was this: to look like he was doing something stupid. Whenever he was reckless as a child and did something that ended with him being hurt Iwa-chan had always shown up to save his butt. Once, Tooru had walked into the river after some kids threw his backpack in the water and because he could not swim he had been nearly swept away. Perhaps he would have died but for one heroic cat that somehow dragged him back to shore. It had been the stray that he left food for on his way to school every morning.

So he stood in the water now, hoping and freezing. He closed his eyes and tried to summon Iwa-chan with his thoughts. It had seemed that this was how it used to work. He’d be walking home from school, afraid that the bullies or that one mean dog would show up, and instead Iwa-chan would turn up without fail and walk him safely home.

He felt like crying when he felt a tug on his jeans and a disapproving yowl.

A pair of green eyes glowed bright against the dark water. Tooru leaned down and picked him up, cradling his cat against his chest and crying.

“Is it really you?” he sobbed.

The cat didn’t struggle or reply. He just leaned into the warm embrace and the familiar scent of the human that glowed brightly in the dark, dark night.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Three days later Makki called in the big guns. Not many people could sway Oikawa Tooru to see reason. And since his mother was out, for obvious reasons, he had Matsukawa make the trip home to see if he could talk some sense into him. Or at least let them in the house.

After the night at the river Oikawa had refused to let Makki near the cat and all but ran home and barred the doors and windows to keep him away.

He didn’t particularly blame him but he also had a business to run and didn’t appreciate that the first time he got to see Matsukawa in months was because Oikawa was throwing a fit. He was twenty eight years old, for crying out loud!

And yet, after three days of knocking on every door and window, pleading, promising everything from free coffee for a lifetime to a potion to make him more handsome than he already was (that particular bribe felt like an all time low) all it took was one knock at the door from Matsukawa to be let in. Oikawa still tried to shut the door in his face.

Makki walked into the living room, Matsukawa trailing afterward as he tried to talk Oikawa down from his protests about letting Makki in. The cat was nestled in a blanket on top of the sofa. As soon as Makki saw it and it saw Makki it jumped down and dashed under the television stand before he could say he came in peace.

“He’s scared of you!” Oikawa growled at him before getting flat on the floor and coaxing the cat out. He had to admit, there certainly was a bond between them. He could see it in the way Tooru and the cat seemed to understand each other from just looking at each other. Like two kids with their own secret language.

He sat down and got to work. There was a mistake to rectify and as annoying as Oikawa was at times he was still his friend. Though it hadn’t been on purpose, he had hurt his friend and he was going to set it right no matter what.

He gave Matsukawa  _ the look _ as he set about to drawing a purifying circle on the wooden floor with the ashes of a birch tree. The cat’s aura was a dark, swirling miasma. Whatever lay underneath the curse was bound to have been locked away for a long, long time by the look of it. He hoped it would survive, for Oikawa’s sake. He also hoped it was actually a cat. But there was no real way of telling.

The cat was settled, albeit tensely, in Oikawa’s arms. “Put it in the circle,” he directed. “Centered is best and then stand back.”

The cat’s fur stood on end as he spoke. But a few words from Oikawa and some sickening kisses placed on it’s head seemed to calm it down enough to let Oikawa place it in the circle. He stepped away, throwing an anxious look at him and Matsukawa.

“You won’t hurt him, will you?” he asked in a hushed, trembly tone that Makki had to steel himself against.

“It’s going to hurt. But I’ll do it fast.” He stepped up to the edge of the circle and noted with relief that Matsukawa had a hand on Oikawa’s back, ready to restrain him if need be. There would be need, he knew.

The cat looked up at him unblinkingly. Now that he had a good look at the thing he could see flashes of white aura peeking through the miasma that swirled restlessly. Whatever it was, it had a good, decent core. Again, Makki hoped it would survive.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Tooru’s nerves were wound as tight as they’d ever been. He hated to be parted from Iwa-chan. Hated to see him standing alone. Hated the way that Makki said it was going to hurt and hated that there was nothing he could do to prevent that pain. Iwa-chan was just a little cat, he thought. But he also knew he was something else now. Something, that in the past days they’d spend together, he gathered was probably close to human. 

Makki started speaking. Whispery, velvety words that held no meaning for him. But they seemed to affect the air in the room, making it heavy and hot. The ash circle was glowing and Iwa-chan all but disappeared in a swirling, black mass that suddenly lashed out against the white light that closed in on it.

“Oh no,” he heard himself moan. He could hear Iwa-chan’s soft, frightened yowls. The sounds tore into his soul. He took a step forward but Mattsun held him back easily.

Makki’s chanting started to get louder and his words summoned more light, more fight, and more pain from his cat. He could see him in the center, mouth open, a suspended cry of pain as the darkness began to dissipate. It was almost over? It was not over nearly soon enough, he though. And all at once, as he had that though and the light seemed to take over, the dwindling darkness pulsed. Hard.

It doubled, pulsed, and almost as if it had teeth, it ate Iwa-chan up in one bite. Tooru screamed and fell forward with Mattsun toppling down with him in an effort to keep him from the circle. Nothing could have prepared him for the pain. Not his own, but what else could there be for him as Iwa-chan’s bones broke under the shadow. He could hear his own wailing but didn’t have the strength to throw Mattsun off. And still, Makki kept chanting. He closed his eyes and cried, since it was all he could do.

An eternity later, maybe two, he’d never know, Makki spoke.

“He’s alive.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The black miasma gave away to static that couldn’t hold its shape. Makki watched Oikawa wash it away with a cloth dipped in the dew of the ash tree. Where there once was a cat now was a sleeping young man. And though he was now a different species he thought he could see traces of the cat in the shape of his eyes and the way his body was curled around Oikawa’s blankets.

“I’ll come back tomorrow to check in on you,” he said. Oikawa nodded, never taking his eyes off the cat who was no longer a cat. “Call me if you need anything.”

He went, stopping by the door to put on his shoes and coat, thinking that in trying to save his friend so many years ago he probably lost his friendship in the present. It was a hard thing to witness, a purification. Especially so when you were just a normal human being with no prior awareness. He didn’t blame Oikawa for his silence. It was normal. But still, it stung.

He stopped at the door when he heard footsteps behind him, hurried and weary. Oikawa threw himself against Makki’s back, crying.

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading until the end. Until next time!


End file.
